Looking Through Your Eyes
by Linneam
Summary: "His thumb continued to rub methodical circles on Blaine's knuckles, finally pulling their conjoined hands to his lips and gently brushing Blaine's fingertips. 'I'm not going anywhere. I promise.' Kurt chuckled sadly. 'You'd have to try harder than this to get rid of me. I love you too much.'" There was more than rock salt in the Sebastian's slushie. Klaine.
1. Chapter 1

**So... This is my first Glee fic. I'm a HUGE Klaine shipper. Basically, this is a rewrite of the episode Michael in which more than rock salt was in the slushie. Please, please, please review at the end to give me some feedback. Also, I apologize for any typos; my fingers have not been working in the way I would like. So... I will try to have a second chapter up soon. Originally, this was to be a one-shot, but it would have been eerily long. I'm guessing a three-shot, to be honest, but we'll see. :)**

**Enjoy!**

**P.S. Glee isn't mine.**

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"Call 911. Now. Finn, do it _now!"_

His brother fumbling on his cellphone was all it took to appease Kurt; his attention snapped back to the boy writhing on the asphalt next to him. His hands carefully moved to Blaine's shoulders, and Kurt gently sat him up, just enough to slip his crossed legs beneath Blaine's torso. Then he just held him, whispering a broken record of reassurances gently in his ear. "It'll be okay. You'll be okay, sweetie. I've got you. I love you…" He moved only to run his sleeve along his boyfriend's face, wiping away the sticky red goo and continuing his heartfelt chant.

Behind him, he could hear the others talking.

"I am going to go _all_ Lima Heights Adjacent on his ass!"

"We need an ambulance. We're in the parking garage."

"Oh my God, is he okay?"

"I thought only dogs got to roll on the ground."

The sirens were a welcome sound in everyone's ears. For Blaine, they meant relief; for Kurt, they meant easing Blaine's pain; and for the rest of New Directions, they meant answers. No slushie had ever done damage like this before, and _no one_ believed it to be only a slushie. It wasn't until Blaine was being loaded onto the stretcher that Kurt, quite literally, caught a glimpse of the truth. He simply looked at his hand, or more aptly, his sleeve. The once flawless neutral plaid was now sapped of color, leaving faint pink tinge in its place. "Bleach. That jerk put bleach in the slushie."

"What's that?" a paramedic asked abruptly from the end of the stretcher. "What was in the slushie?"

"Bleach," Kurt answered only slightly louder. "He just got a face full of red dye and bleach. Can I ride with him? Just to hold his hand. I won't be in your way, I swear."

The paramedic swore, hollering, "Chemical burns," up to those at the head. Kurt never received an answer about riding along, so when the time came to board the ambulance, he did not ask again. He merely climbed in when the stretcher did, maintaining a firm hold on Blaine's thigh and rubbing small circles with his thumb. Blaine had stopped flailing; his body was rigid, his every muscle tight. His fingers were still clamped against his eyes, and groans still issued through his nose, his mouth clamped tightly shut.

"What is your relationship to the patient?" the second paramedic finally asked, not yet closing the doors; the first was already prying Blaine's hands from his face.

Kurt sighed, glancing at his hand on Blaine's thigh. He'd though it was obvious. "I'm his boyfriend. And before you tell me that only family can be here, I'm what he has right now. His parents are on a cruise for the next two weeks, and his brother lives in Hollywood. Without friends, he has no one... Please don't-"

"Relax, kid," the older man said, jumping up and closing the doors; the siren blared as the ambulance began to move. "I'm not kicking you out. I do need you to try to call his parents, though; it'd be good for them to know what's going on."

Kurt nodded, retrieving his phone from his pocket and dialing with two shaky thumbs. It beeped loudly in his ear as the call connected, but it only rang twice. The call had been ignored, taking him directly to voicemail. "Mrs. Anderson, this is Kurt. I'm- I don't know if you can hear it right now, but we're in an ambulance. One of the Warblers-"

"Kurt?"

Blaine's voice sent a shiver through Kurt's body; he sounded so tense and weak… So unlike Blaine. "Anyway, I can't tell it all here. Just call me. Please. Bye." Click. He dropped the phone without so much as a though, his hand instantly reaching for Blaine's. "I'm here, babe. I'm right here. How do you feel?"

"The pain meds," he began, immediately cutting himself off with a yawn and a groan. "Damn. They're helping as long as I don't open my eyes or-" He yawned again, following it immediately with a mild swear once more. "Yawn..." They fell into a short silence, broken only by Blaine's heartrending words. "I just- I needed to know you were still there."

Blaine's fingers maintained a bruising hold on Kurt's hand, but Kurt didn't flinch. His thumb continued to rub methodical circles against Blaine's knuckles, until he finally pulled their conjoined hands to his lips, gently brushing Blaine's fingertips. "I'm not going anywhere. I promise." Kurt chuckled sadly. "You'd have to try harder than this to get rid of me. I love you too much."

"I love you too."

They stayed like that until the sirens came to an abrupt halt.

Kurt hated waiting rooms. He hated the sterile smell and the short, purple-grey carpeting… Not to mention the calming, grotesquely floral watercolor paintings that only angered him more because he did not want to be calmed. Most of all, he hated the absolute powerlessness they forced upon him and, well, the waiting.

Much of his childhood was spent trapped in their chaotic tranquility, humming _Sound of Music_ numbers as he doodled Halloween costume ideas or Power Ranger weddings. He always gave them to his mom, telling her, "This one will make you feel better," each and every time. They never did. As an eight-year-old, he could always make her smile, but no picture could ever save her life.

He'd been in a waiting room when he heard the news. The doctor had pulled his dad aside, like he always did when they talked about his mom. Kurt had seen his dad cry before; it happened often enough. But he'd never cried the way he did that day. It was as if the entire world fell apart; Kurt much later realized that, in that moment, it had.

It was years before he entered another hospital. He sat with the New Directions members, chattering excitedly about their Regionals performance and wondering if Quinn's baby would, indeed, come out with a Mohawk. (Spoiler alert: She didn't.) It had actually been… Okay. Kurt wasn't close to Quinn or Puck like the others were, and he ended up spending most of his time with his head in his hands, worrying about their score and exploring memories he generally kept locked away.

The most recent time, he'd been blessed with a happy ending, but the in-between was the hardest he had ever faced. He'd already lost his mom, yet he had to sit, waiting, to see if he would lose his father as well. He pushed away his friends, his family… He had seen his father's life fall apart when he was eight, but it was during those days that he sensed his own slipping.

And it all happened in a waiting room.

Yet there he sat, alone again with only his thoughts. The others had stopped by before, but they'd disappeared before the surgery began. Puck had a pool to clean, Mike and Tina needed to study, and Santana was Brittany's guest on _Fondue for Two_ for the eighth consecutive week. Finn offered to stay, but Kurt sent him away. He needed to be by himself, and he needed someone to fill his dad in on what was happening anyway.

His phone rang for the fifth time that day; Finn's name flashed across the screen, a picture of "Furt" at their parents' wedding smiling up at him. Admittedly, Kurt was thankful for the distraction. "Hello?"

"_Hey, Kurt. It's me, Finn."_

"I know, Finn."

"_Oh, uh, great. I just wanted to see how you were doing. Rachel said you didn't know much about what's going on with Blaine because they can't tell you anything because of family or whatever, but I thought I'd see if there was anything new."_

Kurt sighed. Blaine was still a minor, and without the permission of either Mr. or Mrs. Anderson, the doctor's couldn't tell him anything. He knew that severe damage had been done to Blaine's eyes and that he was in surgery to attempt to repair it. Everything beyond that remained a mystery. "He's in surgery. They're trying to repair the damage done by the bleach. That's all I know."

"_Oh. Yeah. Uh… How are you? I know this isn't easy for you either… Are you sure you don't want Rach or me to come down?"_

"I'm sure. I'm not-" Kurt took a deep breath, searching for the right words. "I don't make good company when I'm here. It's easier for me to just be by myself. I'm going to stay here tonight so I can be here for visiting hours in the morning unless the Andersons get back to me soon. I can't believe they haven't called yet."

"_I'm sure they will, man. Are you sure you-"_

"Yes, Finn. I'm sure that I would rather be by myself," Kurt snapped, cutting him off. "I'm sorry. I'm just worried, and I shouldn't be taking it out on you. Just let dad know what's going on when he gets home, okay?"

"_Will do. Just, uh, call me if you need anything or something, okay? Bye."_

"Bye."

Kurt slipped his phone in his pocket and drew his knees to his chest, resting his chin neatly against them. His head pounded; even his thoughts seemed to scream. He closed his eyes in protest, attempting to quell the throbbing.

He didn't wake up until he felt a presence slide unsolicited into his personal space. His vision still hazy, he rubbed at his eyes and glared at the intruder, only truly becoming alert when he saw the flannel. "Dad?

"Hey, Kurt."

He bristled instantly. "I'm not going home."

"I'm not asking you to," Burt answered, reaching behind him and producing a duffle bag and a pillow. "I just figured you could use a few things."

A knot rose in Kurt's throat, tears springing to his eyes. He'd considered a variety of options; his dad might have called to check in or to make him leave. Kurt even anticipated being picked up, and he'd worked to prepare an argument for staying. He'd never considered that his dad would _support _him sleeping at the hospital. "I- Thank you."

"You're welcome." Burt shifted in his chair; his mouth opened, then closed again. Finally, he spoke. "You know, when your mom was sick, I never wanted to leave this place. I hated it here, but if I hadn't had you to take care of, I probably would have slept here every night. I'm not saying it was healthy, but your mom was the love of my life, and if sleeping on a hard floor meant being there if she needed me, I would have done it in a heartbeat."

"I love him, Dad."

A small smile curled on Burt's lips, but his eyes remained sad. He slipped a warm, flanneled arm around Kurt's shoulders. "I know. That's why I'm not trying to stop you. But if it's okay with you, I'm going to stay too. Even when I told everyone that I could handle it on my own, there was always a part of me that wanted another warm body to go through it with me. I'm guessing that you and me, well, we're not so different."

Tearing up, Kurt shook his head and leaned heavily against his dad's chest. The tears finally fell. "We're not."


	2. Chapter 2

**Dios mio, you guys are awesome. I'm generally a Harry Potter author, but I write a lesser-read couple, so ten notifications when I wake up the morning after a chapter is generally an amazing day. But you all… I woke up to twenty-one Fanfiction emails (and have had several trickle in throughout the day). You **_**completely**_** made my day, so thank you. I went back through and edited a few of my typos/redundancies this morning when I was more alert, so that was a bit productive, and now I'm here, bringing you this. **

**Also, I'm not sure where this will go from here. I don't want to end it on a sad note, but this is as far as I really intended for this fic to go... If you want it to continue, let me know, and maybe toss out an idea you'd like to see happen. If not, I have another story I've been working on that I'm content to keep writing, so that's a bit up to you guys. **

**Sorry for any OoC-ness, and I really, sincerely hope you enjoy this! Thank you again. :)**

* * *

A vibration against his thigh pulled Kurt from his already restless sleep. He'd passed out almost instantly, still curled tightly in a chair, holding his pillow close like one would the old, one-eyed teddy bear of his childhood. He groaned, half-fumbling for his pocket; he didn't check the name.

"Hello?"

"_Kurt?"_

His eyes snapped open, and he sat up in a flurry of movement. It was a woman's voice… _Mrs. Anderson's_ voice. "Hi, Mrs. Anderson." His voice was still asleep.

"_Kurt, what's going on? I just got your voicemail and- Is Blaine okay? What happened?"_

The fuzziness in Kurt's sleep-addled mind cleared slightly as he remembered his surroundings. Waiting room. Blaine. Right. The worry set back in. "Yesterday, we had a, um, sing-off with the Warblers, and one of them threw a bleach-laced slushie at me, and Blaine jumped in front of it. The bleach got in his eyes, and he collapsed. They had him in surgery last night, but they couldn't tell me anything because I'm not family. That's all I know."

"_Surgery? Don't they need permission or someone to sign paperwork or-"_

"It was an emergency, Mrs. Anderson. Waiting for you to call back could have cost Blaine his sight. They just… Did it."

"_How did it go? Did he come out okay? Can he see?"_

Kurt had never been a morning person. Generally, when he woke up, he would lay in bed for exactly seven minutes, shower, and go through his moisturizing routine before he even attempted to interact with another human being. He _could not_ do this patiently. "I_ really _don't know. Like I said, you're the only people they can talk to about this, and you've been ignoring your calls."

"_I was in a meeting when you called; I didn't even get to look at the name. Then we lost signal; I was only just able to check my messages again."_

Silence filled the line for a moment; Kurt sighed. He understood; he could not blame her for it. But he was still angry – not at her, he realized, but that this was happening. "Can you call and give the doctors permission to give me information and to let me see him? He shouldn't have to be alone right now. Otherwise, you can figure things out when you get home."

"_I won't be able to fly home for at least a week; we just left dock, and won't stop again until next Friday. From there, I will be on my way. But if you give me the contact information, I will call the hospital and give them permission to share details of his treatment with you. We'll need someone to keep us informed, and I trust you, Kurt. You've been good for him, and as far as I'm concerned, you already are part of the family. I don't know how long we'll get to keep cell phone service, but leave me voicemails every time you hear something new."_

"I will," Kurt answered, a wave of disappointment washing over him. Some sliver of him was touched to be a part of their family, but more so, he had hope Blaine would have his mom to go through with this. Unable to change it, he quickly relayed the phone numbers, and they hung up.

Kurt finally glanced at his phone's digital clock, and he glared at the numbers he saw – 4:26 a.m. Without much consideration, he drew his knees to him once more and fell asleep, sending positive thoughts for Blaine out into the void.

When he next awoke, sun was shining in through the windows, and his father already had a cup of decaf in his hand. Seeing his eyes open, his dad wordlessly passed him a bag containing a toothbrush, several bottles of face wash, his deodorant, and his favorite tube of hair product. Kurt walked away with nothing more than a nod and locked himself in the bathroom to make himself human once more.

He emerged bright-eyed twenty minutes later, the dark circles under his eyes nothing more than a distant memory. Kurt waved at his dad as he passed, gesturing to the patient rooms and offering him a small smile before approaching the service desk. "I'm here to see Blaine Anderson."

"Your name?" The nurse sounded bored.

"Kurt Hummel," he said.

She glanced up at him over her spectacles, appraising his wrinkled clothing with an intense gaze. "You're the one who's been sitting in the lobby for the last twelve hours."

"Yes."

She gave him a shrewd smile. "We got the call from his parents two hours ago. I almost woke you when visiting hours started, but we all kind of thought you could use the sleep."

"Can you tell me what's going on? How is he?"

The older woman took a deep breath, reaching for Blaine's file with a wrinkled hand. She scanned the papers with trained eyes, understanding scribbles Kurt could scarcely distinguish. "It looks like the surgery went well, but we won't know the long-term effects on his eyesight until his eyes have been given the chance to heal. It'll be a couple weeks before we can determine anything else."

"Can I see him?" Kurt was disappointed. While it was anything but realistic, he'd hoped for a, 'Oh! He's perfectly fine. You can take him home tonight,' or a, 'He's awake and alert, and his vision is even better than before,' or anything that let him be okay.

"Room 317. Two doors down on the left. He should be awake."

Kurt thanked the woman hastily and turned toward the door. He was suddenly nervous, and he lingered outside the open door longer than necessary. He knew it wasn't his fault; he knew he couldn't control what happened. But still, a small part of him continuously reminded him that Blaine had jumped in front of _him._ It should have been Kurt in that bed. Unable to expel the thoughts, Kurt knocked on the doorframe. He needed to know everything was okay. "Blaine?"

"Kurt?"

Blaine's voice was stronger than before; there was, however, a new and worrisome undertone lurking within it: fear. His usually perfectly-gelled hair was an array of curls spilling over the bandages in a mass of chaos. With his eyes hidden, the figure in front of him looked very little like the Blaine Kurt knew.

Kurt's hands shook as he approached, and he pried his eyes from his lover's face, instead focusing intently on Blaine's hands. They were the hands he had always known - the hands that held him as he cried, that he'd kissed unashamedly every chance he'd had… They were hands he loved, and they were attached to the same Blaine whom he loved even more. They could make it through this.

His hands steady again, he interlaced their fingers as he had so many times before and leaned gently on the edge of the bed. "It's me, honey. I'm so sorry. How do you feel?"

"It's not your fault, Kurt," Blaine answered instantly, as if he'd known it was coming. He shifted slightly beneath the sheets, pressing himself against the opposite edge to create a place for Kurt. "And I'm okay. I'll be okay."

"You don't have to pretend for me, you know," Kurt murmured quietly, accepting Blaine's dismissal of fault and slipping into the bed. They sat hip to hip, but Blaine folded himself into Kurt's open embrace, his torso resting securely against Kurt's chest. Kurt could feel Blaine's heartbeat pounding against him; he delighted in the feeling of their breaths rising and falling simultaneously. "I know when you're hiding something."

"It hurts, Kurt," Blaine answered quietly, his voice losing its years; he sounded like a frightened child. "I can't see, and I'm afraid, but I can't do anything. I can't box, I can't run. I can't even cry, and it's terrifying. And there's _nothing_ I can do about it."

Their silence was deafening. Kurt searched for the words he needed, but they were nowhere to be found. Blaine had bared his soul, and Kurt couldn't even reply. Gently, he rested his head atop Blaine's curls and began to hum. It was in that moment that the obvious truth finally revealed itself. "You can sing."

"I don't feel like singing, Kurt."

"Music has _always _given us an out. Just try it. I'll sing with you."

Blaine didn't answer for a long while; Kurt began to wonder if he'd fallen to sleep, when suddenly, his voice, low and sweet, filled the silence.

_Look at the sky_

_Tell me, what do you see?_

_Just close your eyes_

_And describe it to me_

_The heavens are sparkling_

_With starlight tonight_

_That's what I see_

_Through your eyes_

Kurt smiled softly, tears springing to his eyes. Of all he'd expected, nothing in him was ready for the animated classic, but the more he thought about it, the more it fit. A blind man, wounded and in love, seeking metaphorical sight through the eyes of the woman he loved. Kurt picked up the next verse, her lines, without so much as a though.

_I see the heavens_

_Each time that you smile_

_I hear your heartbeat_

_Just go on for miles_

_And suddenly I know_

_My life is worth while_

_That's what I see_

_Through your eyes_

Kurt closed his verse flawlessly and launched into the chorus, expecting Blaine's tenor to jump in. It didn't. The wrinkles in the younger boy's forehead were perfectly defined, and Kurt could feel him swallowing repeatedly, attempting to suppress the lump rising again and again in his throat. Kurt sang the chorus alone.

_Here in the night_

_I see the sun_

_Here in the dark_

_Our two hearts are one_

_It's out of our hands_

_We can't stop what we have begun_

_And love just took me by surprise_

_Looking through your eyes_

"I love you," he whispered into Blaine's hair, his lips pressing against his scalp. "It doesn't matter to me if you can see me or not. I will _always_ love you."

His words were Blaine's breaking point. "I love you too," his boyfriend choked out, tearless sobs wracking his body. Kurt stayed with him the rest of the afternoon, holding him long after he'd drifted off into a world where all of the pain and fear could melt away for just a little while.

* * *

**Oh! P.S. The song isn't mine. It's from the movie Quest for Camelot. :) **

**Now, like I said, let me know if you'd like more of this via P.M. or review, and thank you again!**


	3. Chapter 3

**I'm back and planning to continue! I left for Honduras, then I came back and started school and two new jobs, and life has been a whirlwind since. But here it is. **** The quality's not quite what I'd have liked, but I figured I'd made you guys wait long enough, right? Anyway, I wanted to say thank you really quickly to all of you amazing readers who favorited this piece or added it to your alert list or reviewed… Those are what caused a third chapter. You all literally made my day every time one of you added it. I hope I haven't let you down. Read on.**

Blaine steadied his breath, attempting to maintain the slow, even pattern of sleep. He could feel the warmth of Kurt's arms snaked steadfastly around his waist and hear his gentle humming. But Blaine just wasn't ready to be awake yet.

_Breathe in slowly_, he instructed himself. _Now out. No, that was too fast. Slower next time. Don't move too much. But don't move too little either. Okay._

Blaine just needed time to think. He was blind. Maybe not forever, but even for the moment, it was scary as hell. He couldn't help but think of everything he might do again: watch a sunrise, sketch an outfit, read a book… He might never get to see the pink glow of Kurt's cheeks after a successful performance or be able to catch the tears in his boyfriend's eyes before they even fell. He might never see his own reflection again. And to be honest, Blaine had no idea how to handle that.

Then there was the matter of how he ended up there, which in some ways left him more confused than the blindness. His friends. His _best_ friends. When he showed up at Dalton, he was a shadow of his real self, scarred by bullying, homophobia and fear. They fixed him. Nick and Jeff dragged him into the Warblers, and he watched as no one touched them, though their fingers remained intertwined the entire way to the choir room. In darker times, he sometimes believed he owed them his life.

But they hadn't all known, right? It had just been Sebastian, which while less surprising, still confused him. He wasn't stupid; he'd sensed the tension between Sebastian and Kurt. He knew something was wrong there. But he had _never_ pegged his friend to be so cruel, nor so foolish.

Without thinking, Blaine sighed, breaking his steady breathing. He froze. It was not until he heard Kurt's continued humming that he relaxed again, once more focusing on the consistent rise and fall of his own chest. Guilt bubbled up in him. Kurt was skipping school and squeezing into a too-small hospital bed for him, and Blaine couldn't even speak to him.

But just Kurt's presence helped. His boyfriend's firm grip granted him a feeling of security he would never have had otherwise. The hours he'd spent alone terrified him- never knowing who was in his room, whose fingers were probing his eyes, whose voice was asking him intrusive questions… It made him want to scream. He still wanted to scream.

Finally, he rolled over, doing his best to drape his arm around Kurt. "Morning, sunshine. What time is it?"

"Quarter to eleven," Kurt answered, a small smile in his voice as he tapped away on the keys of his cellphone. "I'm glad to hear your voice. How'd you sleep?"

"Soundly," Blaine answered honestly. Once Kurt's arms had wrapped around him the previous morning, he'd slipped freely in and out of consciousness and woke only when the nurses poked and prodded his bandages. "What about you?"

"After sleeping in a lobby chair the night before, I can promise you I slept like a rock." Kurt's breath tickled the back of his neck, and Blaine felt two warm lips press against his collarbone. "How do you feel?"

Goosebumps rose on Blaine's arm, and he swiveled his head around needily, his lips searching for his boyfriend's until Kurt's finally met his. The kiss was short but tender; neither tried to deepen it. "I'm really glad you're here."

Kurt didn't ask again, and for that, Blaine was thankful. Instead, he felt Kurt's chin rest gently atop his head, though his fingers tapped once more at his cell phone. "I wouldn't want to be anywhere else, babe… What do you want to do today?"

"Kurt, it's a hospital," Blaine answered sullenly. "There's really not much we _can_ do. Can we just… Lay here?" With a small nod, Kurt's arms wrapped securely around Blaine's chest and held him tight, his grip loosening only moments later to answer a text.

"Who have _you_ been texting all morning?" Blaine asked, a hint of envy in his voice. He knew Kurt wouldn't cheat on him or anything as serious as that, but he did want Kurt to focus on him, if only for a little while.

"No one important," Kurt answered smoothly, pulling further away from Blaine and standing up. "But I'm going to go get something to eat really quickly. I'll be back soon, babe."

"Kurt?" Blaine asked, his head turning from side to side, as if looking. He almost stood up when he heard them.

_When the night, has come,__  
__and the land is dark,__  
__and the moon is the only, light we'll see.__No I won't, be afraid,__  
__no I, won't be afraid,__  
__just as long, as you stand,__  
__stand by me.__And darling, darling__  
__stand by me, stand by me,__  
__just as long, as you stand,__  
__stand by me._

A segment of the Warblers were in the room, each of the four voices as immaculate as it had always been, filled with power and emotion. Each boy in turn came up, squeezing Blaine's shoulders and murmuring a name. "Trent." "Thad." "Jeff."

_If the sky, that we look upon.__  
__Should tumble and fall,__  
__all the mountains, crumble, to the sea.__I won't cry, I won't cry,__  
__no I, won't shed a tear,__  
__just as long, as you stand,__  
__stand by me._

The lead vocals shifted there; even with everything going on, he had to notice. Nick, who had been singing, was suddenly next to him, ruffling the mess that was his ungelled hair. "It's me, Nick," the older boy said, however unnecessarily. "We love you."

Blaine swallowed heavily, his chest aching with an unwelcome swell of emotion.

_And darling, darling__  
__stand by me, stand by me,__  
__just as long, as you stand,__  
__stand by me.__Whenever you're in trouble just stand by me__  
__Oh stand by me__  
__Whoa stand now, oh stand, stand by me_

By the end, all of Blaine trembled, his body wracked with silent sobs which only intensified as Nick and Jeff squeezed into the bed on either side and squished him in one of their oh-so-familiar hugs. "We're so sorry, Blaine. We- None of us ever thought Sebastian would do something like that. We'd never have let him join or-"

"I know, Jeff," Blaine choked, still tight-throated. "I never thought you guys had anything to do with it."

"Then why are you crying?" Nick asked gently from his other side. "Oh, god. Are you in pain? Do we need to get a nurse or something?"

"No," Blaine answered more solidly. "No. They keep me on strong enough medicine that the pain's bearable. I'm just... That song… And you guys being here… How'd you know where I was?"

"Kurt's been texting Jeff and me to let us know how you are. This morning, he said you were pretending to be asleep and that he was worried about you, so it might be a good idea if we came to get you out of your head for a bit. So here we are. We've been wanting to see you anyway, we just didn't know if you were mad at us or not, and Kurt hadn't gotten to talk to you about it, and…"

"He knew I was pretending?" Blaine asked, unable to focus beyond that point. "Why didn't he say anything?"

He felt the boy on his left- Jeff- shrug against him. "He knew you had a reason and that you'd talk to him when you were ready. For as pushy as Kurt can be, you have to give him credit for giving you your space."

"So how are you?" Trent's voice cut in awkwardly, jumping to the heart of the matter. "Ugh. Sorry. I just- We all want to know, and I hate dancing around it like it's a forbidden topic or something. What have the doctors said?"

Blaine cleared his throat, searching carefully for the words. He didn't want to make things worse when they were already awkward, but he owed them a solid truth. "I don't know how much Kurt has told you. I'll try to stick to the basics so we don't have to deal with any of the medical jargon or whatever it is. The slushie Sebastian threw at me was laced with bleach. It got in both of my eyes and caused chemical burns and severed some of the nerves. I had surgery almost as soon as I arrived- as soon as they finished flushing out my eyes, I went directly in- and we won't know the results for a couple of weeks. I'm going to start working with an occupational therapist tomorrow so I can function normally until then and in case… Yeah."

"And what are the odds?"

"Low," Blaine answered with a sigh. "Full vision is an almost guaranteed failure, but there's a fifty-fifty shot on whether my vision will come back in any form at all. It's all dependent on how well the nerve endings repair themselves."

"And how are you handling that?" Thad's voice chimed in for the first time since he'd said his name what felt like forever before.

"I just… Am. I don't have a choice this time. I have to deal with it. I'm scared, but there's no way to fix this one."

Silence resonated through the room, and it was several moments before Nick broke the silence. "Well… On a happier note, both of our teams sounded _really_ good the other day. It'll be a close competition, you know?"

And with that, they were back to normal: laughing, joking, teasing Blaine about his gel addiction… It didn't matter that he couldn't see or that he wasn't a Warbler anymore or that he _did_ use too much hair product. It was just him with his best friends, and things couldn't be better.

The Warblers left an hour later, forced to return to Dalton for rehearsal, and Kurt slipped back into the room to be greeted by Blaine's heartfelt, "Today was something I really needed, and _you_ are the best boyfriend in the world," and a kiss much more passionate than that morning's. Things were looking up.

**I thought about putting another Kurt heart-to-heart here, but I figured I'd save that for sometime next chapter. This one was for the Warblers. **** Anywho, I'm back, and I would LOVE to see some new reviews coming my way if you would be willing. I'll do my best to be a better updater from here on out.**


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